


Little Things

by saccarines (orphan_account)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman Beyond
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Divergence because Damian is not in the Batman Beyond comics but Dick is, Growing Old, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/saccarines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could be anywhere in the world, with anyone he wanted, and here he sits on Dick’s sad, uncomfortable couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> Basically set in a fantasy Batman Beyond world where Damian didn't get to be Batman and left Gotham. I haven't read Batman Beyond in a while, but I got an urge after [this page](http://thelittlestcrane.tumblr.com/post/59180834718/coolstufffromlalacat-things-change-dick) kept popping up on my dash over on tumblr.  
> 

Dick is bone-tired when he finally returns from Gotham. The new kid – teenager, he _should_ say, but he won’t – is every bit as capable as Bruce promised he’d be. Dick doesn’t doubt the legacy is going into good hands with Terry.

 

Of course, Dick’s all-clear means there are loose ends to tie up. Loose ends like the brooding man lying on the couch in the living room.

 

“You’re back.”

 

“Astute observation,” Dick kicks off his shoes. He moves slowly (ever so slowly, and it strikes him again how old he’s gotten), sinking into the armchair across from the couch, sighing when the cushions move to accommodate and comfort him.

 

Damian glances over, lips still painted with the same scowl he’d had when Dick had left days before. When he’d found out that Dick was going to give Terry a fair chance to prove himself. “ _Well_?” He demands.

 

Dick doesn’t answer right away, taking time to simply soak up the feeling of being home. He _is_ a bit surprised that Damian is at the house to begin with.

 

Of course, he’s always surprised by that these days.

 

Dick isn’t getting any younger, and Damian is still in his prime. He’s mid-twenties. He’s fit. He’s flexible. He’s power coiled up under bronze skin and well-trained muscle. He’s more than attractive. He could be anywhere in the world, with anyone he wanted, and here he sits on Dick’s sad, uncomfortable couch.

 

“What do you want to know?” Dick shrugs, wincing at the pull in his muscles. He hasn’t had a chance to properly work out the kinks in his system from the past few days, and his body really isn’t built for tension (or intense physical activity) anymore. It’s not that he’s out of shape, because really he isn’t. He’s just…forty.

 

Forty and battle-worn. Forty and aching everywhere. Forty and showing the consequences that their lifestyle comes with.

 

Damian frowns, “Was he any good?”

 

That’s not at all what Damian wants to know, but Dick will humor him. He’s too tired to demand Damian get to the point, even if that’s what he wishes Damian would do. All demands do for Damian these days is start arguments. “He’s a good fit for the job. He won’t let the harshness of it weigh him down. He works well with Bruce and he has friends outside of the business.”

 

Damian doesn’t look happy about any of that.

 

“Damian,” Dick sighs, “Bruce didn’t give you the job. I get why you’re upset by that-”

 

“I’m not _upset_. I’m rightfully _frustrated_ -”

 

“-but Terry is a good kid. He’s a good Batman. You need to move past this. You’ve got plenty of time before you have to _retire_ ,” Dick shakes his head at the word, “Make a new name for yourself.”

 

“- _tt_ -” Damian spits, “I don’t expect _you_ to _understand_ -”

 

“Stop being a little brat,” Dick snaps, letting his exhaustion get the better of him. “You’re twenty-five years old, Damian. You’re not a child.”

 

Damian quiets immediately, expression twisting from angry to something Dick is too tired to dissect.

 

Dick rests his head back, closing his eye.

 

“Was…”

 

“Damian,” Dick groans warningly.

 

“Was he better than me?” Damian asks softly. “Was he...better than I would have been?”

 

Dick cracks open his eye. Damian isn’t looking at him, staring up at the ceiling with stormy eyes. Dick knows what Damian wants to hear. He’s never been in the business of lying to Damian, though.

 

“Yes.”

 

Damian frowns, eyebrows furrowing as he blinks rapidly. It’s almost an abstract idea, but it looks like Damian is about to cry.

 

“How?”

 

“He’ll adjust better. He has friends to rely on. His family isn’t involved, so he’ll be able to have a normal home life, or as normal as possible.”

 

“I have friends.”

 

“You don’t,” Dick says, not unkindly. They both know that Damian doesn’t let anyone close enough to consider a friend. It comes from years and years of Bruce and Talia as parents, Dick is sure, but it doesn’t change the facts.

 

Damian clucks his tongue, shifting on the cushions.

 

“Terry is a good choice, Damian.” Dick rubs at his gray temples, “Now if you would be so kind, go _home_. I need to sleep.”

 

“You’re hurt,” Damian observes instead. “Your trapezius is strained, your deltoids are pulled, and your tailbone is aching every time you so much as shift.”

 

Dick breathes slowly, “If you know all that, _why_ did you _not_ let me go to bed?”

 

“You can’t go to _bed_ like that, Grayson.” Damian scoffs, “You won’t be able to move when you wake up.”

 

“I’m not going to see a chiropractor,” Dick sighs, letting his eye close again, “It’s too late, and I don’t want to go out again.”

 

“- _tt_ \- Old man,” Damian’s tone is almost fond.

 

“Yes, Damian. Because I didn’t already know that.”

 

The next time Dick opens his eye, Damian is standing in front of him with a small frown. “You are far too insecure about your _age_ , Grayson.”

 

Dick snorts, “ _You_ try being this old and see how _you_ like it.”

 

“You aren’t _old_ ,” Damian rolls his eyes, “You’re _middle-aged_. You aren’t old for another ten years at _least_. Twenty depending on what you consider ‘over the hill’.”

 

Dick exhales, “I can’t tell if you’re insulting me or trying to make me feel better.”

 

Damian rolls his eyes again, taking one of Dick’s wrists and pulling him from the chair. He turns, leading the man through his own home until they reach the bedroom, where he pushes Dick face-first on the mattress none too gently.

 

Dick winces, breath leaving him in a startled, hurt noise. He feels a weight – Damian’s knees – settle on each side of his hips, and insistent hands begin to tug his shirt up and over his head. Once he’s free of it, Damian tosses the shirt to the side.

 

At this point, Dick is really too tired to care what Damian thinks he’s doing. The mattress is soft beneath him, and that’s all that really matters until warm, nimble fingers press into the muscle of his neck.

 

Dick groans, “What are you doing?”

 

“If you refuse to take care of yourself,” Damian huffs, pressing firm and rubbing precise circles along the column of his neck and the beginnings of his trapezius. “Then _I’ll_ have to do it _for_ you.”

 

Dick hums, not protesting in the slightest. It’s better than what they _had_ been doing. Much better.

 

Damian’s fingers are strong, working slowly down his shoulder blades, branching off to knead the knots out of his deltoid muscles and any other knots in between. They’re warm as well, Dick is glad to notice. Damian has always been warmer than the rest of them, but in the still air of Dick’s bedroom, his hands feel like sitting by a fire or taking a nap in the sunlight.

 

Dick swallows as Damian’s fingers travel south, thumb rubbing each indent in his spine, soothing over the vertebrae and lessening the ache in Dick’s tailbone little by little. “You’re surprisingly good at this.”

 

He grunts when Damian presses harder than necessary, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Didn’t think you’d have the patience,” He chuckles to himself.

 

He feels Damian’s weight shift as the boy reclines to sit on the back of his thighs. Damian’s fingers sweep down, pressing and prodding and rubbing, drawing half-moans and breathy sighs out of Dick as he goes.

 

It sounds lewd, what they’re doing. What Damian is doing to him. If Dick wasn’t so tired, he’s sure he’d be aching in more sensitive areas right now. As it is, he just feels…well, _good_. Damian is aroused – Dick can feel that much – but Dick doesn’t think he’s going to do anything about it for a while.

 

He groans loudest when Damian finally reaches his sore tailbone. Damian lays a palm flat under it, warming the skin there as he rubs various lines and patterns into the strained region. Dick all but goes limp under the attention, feeling oddly refreshed and ready for a nap at the same time.

 

Damian finally pulls away when he’s satisfied with the state Dick has slumped to. He stretches over Dick’s head, dragging two of the pillows down from the headboard and wedging them under Dick’s head.

 

Dick almost misses Damian getting off the bed. He turns his head to the side, watching as the man picks up the shirt he’d thrown. He picks up a few more articles of clothing as well – Dick had never been very good at keeping his space nice and tidy – and heads for the door.

 

“Damian,” Dick calls, shifting slowly, moving to lie on his side. He waves the man back towards him, eye falling half-closed as he quickly drifts towards sleep.

 

He’s aware when Damian is close enough to touch, and he cups his fingers around the back of his neck to bring him down for a soft kiss. “Be careful going home.”

 

Damian tsks at him, fingers brushing back the thinned locks of hair that still fall over his forehead, “I live across the hall, Grayson.” In this case, _Grayson_ sounds a lot like _idiot_.

 

“I know,” Dick grins, eye closed. He’s fading fast.

 

“And,” Damian adds, “You should worry more about _yourself_. Next time Father asks you to test someone’s mettle, _refuse_.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dick barely registers Damian’s words anymore. He hears a few more, and then silence.

 

He’s on the very brink of sleep when he catches Damian’s parting phrase. He misses a few words, but he doesn’t miss the important ones, “I _am_ home, Dick.”

 

In the morning, Dick is going to have to have _another_ talk with Damian about only saying what he’s really thinking when he thinks no one can hear him. For now, he welcomes sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> [x posted ](http://thelittlestcrane.tumblr.com/post/59180999920/little-things)to tumblr


End file.
